


Getting Lucky

by DeepDisiresLonging



Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-25
Updated: 2018-12-25
Packaged: 2019-09-27 07:37:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17157947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeepDisiresLonging/pseuds/DeepDisiresLonging
Summary: Sheamus finds the remnants of a temporary tattoo wrapper. But his wife won’t tell him what it is; he has to find out for himself.





	Getting Lucky

**Author's Note:**

> Just a quick thing I thought of. Enjoyed writing Sheamus as a bit of a teaser, though the reader holds her own too. Please let me know what you liked with the usual methods.
> 
> Mo chroí: My heartbeat  
> Asthore: stems from the Gaelic word stōr, which means “treasure.”  
> Cailín beag: “little girl”

You willed the time around you to move faster, and slower for your husband. Already you had heard Sheamus’s car pull into the garage and he would be inside any… he was already inside.

“Twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty! Good enough.” You hastily pulled your clothes up around your mini project and rushed to the living room where Sheamus was just dropping his bags on the couch. “Welcome home, mo chroí!” You jumped into his arms, laughing as he spun you around. You tried to say more, but he silenced you with a flurry of kisses.

“I’ve. Missed. You. So. Much,” he said, punctuating each with a kiss to a different part of your face. He buried his face in your neck while you ran your fingers through his hair. He dropped you to your feet and pressed his forehead against yours.

As much as you wanted to stay in that position forever, you also wanted to show him your surprise. And make the mystery last. “Why don’t you drop your stuff off upstairs, and I’ll grab order some take out.”

“Sounds good.” He gave your lips one final peck, then did as you suggested.

A few minutes later the food was on its way and you wandered into the living room to pick a movie. You leaned down to scan the lower shelves, then yelped as your behind was given a light slap. Hands gripped your hips as you straightened and pulled you back into a strong torso.

Sheamus chuckled. “Couldn’t help myself. The view was too good.”

You spun in his arms. “When did you become so stealthy?”

“Cesaro thought back to his 007 days and taught me a thing or two.” When you tried to lean up to wiggle your noses together, he pulled down on your hips. “And the stealthy came with some sleuthing lessons too.” He dug into his pocket and pulled out the used tattoo packet. You bit your bottom lip under his gaze.

“Meant to throw that away. Oops.” Inwardly you gave a sigh of relief that the packet didn’t give away what the tattoo was besides some remnant green shimmer.

“You gunna tell me what the design is?”

The doorbell rang.

“Dinner’s here,” you chirped. You danced away from him and received the food. Sheamus left his options for the movie on the coffee table, then grabbed the plates and silverware. You set down the food and grabbed the drinks. It was a routine that really brought to your mind how much it felt like home with him.

All through dinner and the thousandth viewing of The Mummy (with Rachael Weiz and Brendan Fraiser of course) Sheamus kept giving you side glances. Every once in a while, he would play with your sleeves or your shorts, making the fabric ride up. Never missed to quote his favorite lines though. Imhotep’s sandstorm was just starting to form when he paused the movie.

“I give up. Where is it, lass?”

“Where is what?” You gave him your most innocent glance from under your eyelashes.

“The tattoo. Where is it, and what is it of?”

“Can’t tell you. It’s a surprise.”

Sheamus groaned. “Please, asthore. You know I won’t be able to sleep if I don’t know.”

With a gleam in your eye, you maneuvered to sit on his lap. His hands naturally rested on your hips, and his hips bucked. “And we both know that the plan for tonight had nothing to do with sleeping.” You ground your hips down, gasping at the contact with his growing bulge.

“Is that so?” Sheamus grit his teeth. “I’m not giving in till you tell me where it is.”

“Fine.” You slipped from his lap and took a few steps toward your bedroom. “I’m not going to tell… but you can look for it yourself.” You reached up under your shirt and unhooked your bra, hanging it on the hall closet doorknob after some maneuvering. Hearing Sheamus get off the couch, you quickened your steps. He caught up to you and lifted you off your feet. You squealed as he dropped you on the bed and caged you beneath him.

He hummed. “Where to look first?” His pupils were blown wide and glinting with playfulness. He nuzzled his nose under your jaw, his beard tickling you. “Nothing there,” he murmured. It made you gasp as he sucked on your neck. He batted your hands away from fumbling with his shirt. Soon he was naked except for his briefs. His fingers toyed at the hem of your shirt. “Maybe… under here?” His light touch grazed up your stomach, taking your shirt with it. He paused just below your breasts, using his long fingers to play with your nipples under the fabric. With a quick flick, he flipped your shirt over your breasts. His brow creased slightly when he didn’t find the tattoo. But that didn’t bother him for long.

You arched into his mouth as he sucked between the valley of your breasts. His arms wrapped under your waist to pull your hips closer into his bulge. You circled your hips up to meet him, both of you moaning at the contact. Your shirt landed somewhere on the floor as Sheamus helped you remove it. He flipped you onto your stomach and kissed from the back of your neck down the length of your spine. You shivered as he breathed over the small of your back, right above the top of your shorts. Those and your underwear were gone next. Sheamus let out a confused sound. The tattoo was on neither of your cheeks. He parted your legs a little to check the inside of your thighs, but it wasn’t there either.

Sheamus stretched over you, slightly smothering you with his weight. “Where is it, cailín beag? You know how long I can tease you from this position right here.” He lightly dragged his fingertips down your back over your ass to the juncture of your thighs. He stroked your skin mere inches from where you wanted him. You squirmed under his touch, rotating just enough so you could turn your face to see him.

“There’s only one place you haven’t checked yet.” Wrapping your arms around his neck, you pulled yourself up and rotated around the rest of the way. You guided one of his hands down your front to your lower abdomen. His face lit up as he felt the small design slightly raised from your skin. He broke out into a full belly laugh as he realized what the tattoo was of.

“Is this a hint that I’m going to get lucky tonight?” He ran his thumb over the glittery four-leafed shamrock on your skin.

“Well, tomorrow is St. Patrick’s Day. I had a feeling that I’m not going to wake up tomorrow wearing anything, much less anything green. So, I took precautions so you won’t pinch me.”

“Clever girl. Though I make no guarantee that I still won’t pinch you if it rubs off sometime tonight.”

“Deal.” You sighed and wove your fingers through his beard. “Do you want a shamrock pun as an invitation?”

“Maybe later.” Sheamus dipped his head to take your nipple in his mouth. His hand gripped your hips, pinning you to the bed. You stayed put as he removed the last of his clothing, his length bobbing up against his stomach. He reached down and ran a finger through your slick folds and thumbing at your clit. His other hand held your hip down again as he worked you quickly to the brink of orgasm.

“Sheamus, please. What are you doing?”

He chuckled and sped up his movements and adding a second finger, making you whimper. “I haven’t been home in a while. Wanted to play a bit.” You groaned and did your best to wrap your legs around him and pull him closer. Sheamus let you attempt it, smiling as your sounds broke as they left your lips. He pulled away just as your walls began to clamp down on his fingers. Your whine flipped into breathlessness as he slotted himself between your legs and began to ease himself into your heat. Your eyes fluttered shut as paused once he was fully sheathed. He maintained his pin on your hips while stroking the tattoo.

You rotated your hips, pulling him from his thoughts. He started slow. In and out almost feeling like one wonderful sensation. It never failed to make your breathing uneven or to bring a fine sheen of sweat to your skin. Sheamus was faring only a little better. Soft sighs fell between grunts as he began to speed up his movements. Your heart rate increased. You tightened your grip on his forearms, making him groan. The half-moons you accidentally left on his skin encouraged him to slightly twist his hips until he found the spot that made your throat hoarse from shouting.

With your walls clamping down on his length, Sheamus thrust harder. He finally released your hips so he could hold your thighs up. The air filled with the sound his skin slapping against yours, your soft cries of pleasure, and his desperate growls that sent shivers down your spine. All of that combined with his earlier teasing made you come with a silent shout. Your whole body shivered and trembled. Sheamus continued to move, chasing his release until he froze with a final thrust paired with a broken shout. He eased your legs back onto the bed before laying by your side.

Both of you fought to catch your breath. Absently, you stroked your lower stomach, feeling the tattoo still intact.

“Don’t worry,” Sheamus hummed in your ear, “we’ve got all night for me to ruin you and that clover.”

He stayed true to his word. You woke up the next morning to him pinching your nipples with a clever grin on his face.

 

Mo chroí: My heartbeat

Asthore: stems from the Gaelic word stōr, which means “treasure.”

Cailín beag: “little girl”


End file.
